Everybody Dance, Now
by wingedraksha
Summary: Kitty hates John, John hates Kitty. It's a system. It works. But with a new, mildly psychotic dance instructor thrown in, their fighting just might lead to something no one well, not THEM, at least... saw coming... Kyro


"I'm not doing it."

"Come on, please?"

"How many different ways can I say no? Let's see. No. Non. Nein. Negative. Not if my life depended on it. Not a chance. Hell no. I can do this for hours."

"Pretty please? Cherry on top? Whipped cream? More lighter fluid?"

"What, you're bribing me now? Whatever would Logan say if he knew?"

"He would be proud of me, and you know it."

"… yeah, you're probably right. Look, Rogue, I am not taking you to this dance class thing. No matter how much you pay me." John sliced off another sliver of wood, and turned the little figurine he was carving in his hand. It was a bird, wings spread, the beak an evilly hooked weapon that he'd spent hours making as smooth and sharp as possible. Rogue crossed her arms, pouting.

"But Bobby's off looking at NYU, and I really want to go!" He didn't look at her.

"So why didn't you go with him? Aren't you two all hot and heavy now?"

"Please," she scoffed, but John glanced up anyway; the hurt in her tone was mostly concealed. Mostly.

"Sorry, Rogue," he sighed. "But I have a rep to keep up, and I am not-"

"Hey, Rogue, what was the physics homework? Ew, why are you talking to this loser? Oh yeah, I forgot. Bobby's best friend and all. Where is Bobby, anyway? NYU? Was that this weekend?" John looked up to see a slight, now-out-of-breath brunette with a zip-up blue sweatshirt and tight black jeans. Kitty Pryde. Rogue was smiling at the shorter girl, shaking her head.

"Breathe, Kitty. We didn't have any physics homework. Yeah, he's getting back on Monday. Johnny, you know Kitty, right?"

"Unfortunately," Kitty interrupted. John sneered at her and flipped the knife closed, tossing it from hand to hand. The bird sat forgotten beside him.

"We've met," he said. "Kitty here likes to tell Storm whenever I so much as touch my lighter." Kitty looked self-righteous, and Rogue snickered.

"Well, someone has to. Otherwise, we'd all be incinerated by now."

"Only a select few, actually," John replied, looking pointedly at the petite brunette. "Well, you heard her, Ghost Girl, no homework. Run along, now." Blatantly ignoring him, Kitty looked at Rogue.

"Are you going to the dance thing tomorrow night? I heard that that new guy is leading it. The one who just moved from England. He's the guy who can control people through dance, right?"

"Something like that. I don't know, really. I wanted to go, but Bobby's not here, and Pyro is too high-and-mighty to go with me." Kitty grinned.

"Well, I'm not surprised. Like he can dance."

"I am right here, you know," John interrupted disgustedly. He slid the knife into his pocket and picked up the carving, running a finger down the smoothly whittled back. "I could dance circles around you."

"As if," Kitty retorted. Rogue watched the two with interest, a small smile playing on her lips.

"You know what some of the guys call you, right," John began with a smirk. "Pretty Kitty. It's just them being polite, when we all know you're really Shitty Kitty." Rogue let out a cough that was somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. Kitty, on the other hand, stepped forward and slapped John smartly across the face. He teetered on his perch on the balcony railing of the second floor of Xavier's Institute before regaining his balance. A bright red mark rose on his left cheek. He raised a hand and touched it lightly, gaping at the girl.

"You hit me!" She lifted her chin smugly.

"So much for your baddass act, Johnny," Rogue muttered helpfully. The teenager reached angrily into his pocket and pulled out his beloved Zippo, flicking it easily. Kitty gulped, but did not back down.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me." Fire bloomed in his hand, exploding towards Kitty like a firework gone wrong. She yelped and phased, flinching when the fire went straight through her.

"Okay, guys," Rogue put in, but was silenced by Kitty's angry shriek as she dove for John's lighter.

"You punk, you could have killed me!"

"Not hardly!" He tried to fend her off, but his hands just fell through her. In a moment, she had his lighter and was backing off triumphantly, holding it behind her back. Solid now, she stuck out her tongue.

"I'm not afraid of you, John Allerdyce! Everybody else might be, but I'm not!"

"You will be," he promised darkly, and slid off the balcony railing. "Give that back."

"What, so you can try to murder me again?" Now, Rogue had decided the best course of action was to simply get out of the way. She watched with a mixture of foreboding and glee as tiny Kitty Pryde boldly stood up to the baddest boy ever to attend Xavier's, if his attitude was to be believed.

John moved faster than either his friend or his enemy had expected: one moment he was stalking towards her, and the next, he had practically tackled Kitty to the ground. The lighter was twisted out of her hand, and then knocked out of his. It was flung a few paces away, and the two furious teens became nothing more than a shouting, cursing ball of fists.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" Storm had them by the napes of the neck, yanking them apart. John and Kitty panted, snarling at each other from opposing sides of their tall, shapely teacher. "John, I thought I told you no more fighting. And Kitty! I never would have expected this from you!"

"It's not my fault, Ms. Monroe, I swear!"

"What! It is so totally his fault!"

"Both of you, be quiet. Rogue, what happened here?" The untouchable teen held up a hand, begging for a moment as she doubled over with laughter. When she straightened, there were tears running down her cheeks. Silent giggles racked her frame. Kitty huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"I- I was asking- ha! Okay. I was asking… John to… whew… I was asking him to go to the dance thing with me, because Bobby's not here. And Kitty- heh- came up to ask about homework. They started insulting each other, and then she hit him, and he threw fire at her, and she stole his lighter, and he just kind of attacked. It was… oh god… it was hilarious, Ms. Monroe, it really was."

"So all this started because you asked John to the dance?" Storm sounded confused. Rogue shook her head.

"No, it started… Well, actually, it started when Kitty said John couldn't dance. Then, he said he could dance circles around her, and it pretty much took off from there."

"Ah. Well, then." She looked at the two teens in her hands, from Kitty's red face to John's defiant one. "It appears that this… disagreement…stemmed from a challenge, am I right?" There was a tinge of wicked humor in her voice, and Rogue's face split with another grin. Kitty looked confused, but John, understanding what Rogue understood, looked plainly horrified. "Then… the only way to resolve it is to complete the challenge. Your punishment for fighting is to attend the dance… together. You'll have to figure out the hard way who's the better dancer. Don't let me catch you fighting on the grounds again." With that, she let them go and strolled amiably away, leaving three dumbstruck teens behind her.

88888888

"I can't believe she's making me do this."

"Look on the bright side," Rogue said compassionately. "At least you get to prove to Kitty that you don't have two left feet."

"Oh, shut up." She smiled, holding up a long-sleeved purple shirt beside a black one.

"Should I wear this one, or this one?" John blinked at her.

"I'm having a crisis here, Rogue. Can we focus on me?"

"Don't be such a baby. It'll be fine. You look fine."

"A baby? I'm not being a baby! And I don't give a damn how I look. I'm not dressing up for that- that-"

"Okay, sure, fine. Whatever you say."

"Don't patronize me, woman." He gave a disgusted sigh.

"This sucks. Big time."

"Seriously, Johnny, I need a man's opinion. Which shirt?"

"Why are you dressing up when Popsicle's not here?"

"A girl always likes to look good when she goes dancing," she replied airily. John rolled his eyes.

"The black one."

"Really? I thought it contrasted a little too much with my skin."

"Oh, come on, Rogue, it's black lace. Can't go wrong. Please do not start talking about skin contrasts with me, I can already feel my testosterone level dropping." She laughed, and reached behind her.

"Here. Put this on."

"What, you're dressing me now? Bobby wouldn't really approve, would he?"

"Just shut up and put it on, Flameboy." With that, she sashayed into the bathroom connected to her dorm room and slammed the door. John sighed before stripping off his shirt and slipping on the one she'd given him. Might as well, right? Besides, if he didn't, Rogue might get pissed and drain him. Thus were the dangers of having a vampiric chick as a close friend.

The shirt was dark emerald green, a color he wasn't used to wearing, and it buttoned up the front. He had a black undershirt on, and so only buttoned it up to mid-chest. The sleeves buttoned closed around the wrists, but John rolled them up around his elbows. He shook out his arms, eying the dark fabric. It was a nice shirt. He wondered where Rogue had gotten it.

The bathroom door opened, and Rogue padded out in a long flared skirt and the black lacy top that covered every inch of her torso but left little to the imagination. She paused, taking him in. A low whistle echoed through the room.

"That really brings out your eyes. I knew it would." John rolled said eyes, but was secretly pleased. He held up both hands in defense as she came towards him.

"Hey, hey, don't touch! I'm delicate!"

"Shut up, you," she snapped lightly, bringing a half-smirk to his face. He was the only one who got away with such remarks that could play so easily on her hidden insecurity about her powers. Then, he put his hands down and let her run her gloved fingers through his hair, pulling a few too-long strands from the slicked-back style that he favored. She let the freed strands fall down across his forehead, arching over his eyes. "Much better." Stepping back, she looked him up and down. "Not bad, not bad at all."

"You clean up good yourself, Roguey." He let out a wolf whistle as she spun playfully for him, then checked his watch. "Well, guess we'd better get this freak show over with. Come on, pretty lady, let's go find the shrew."

"Be nice."

"Oh, I plan to," he assured her wickedly, offering her his arm. Biting her lip distrustfully, Rogue shook her head with a laugh and took it as they left the room.

Stopping in front of Kitty's room, Rogue let go of John's arm and stepped back. He looked at her in annoyance.

"What are you doing?"

"Pick up your date, sugar," she said sweetly. He gave her a look that promised fiery vengeance, and stepped up to the door. Knocking in a swift, almost nervous pattern, he quickly crossed his arms as the door swung open.

"Finally," he said irritably as Kitty came into view.

"Okay, I'm ready," she snapped, folding her own arms beneath her breasts.

"Then let's go." He started walking towards the elevators, with Kitty walking beside and yet apart, and Rogue following. Glancing quickly at the petite girl stalking along next to him, John frowned. She'd dressed up. Somehow, he hadn't expected that. She was wearing a sleeveless pink top and a black skirt made out of some kind of heavy material rather like the one Rogue was wearing. It fell in folds around her shins, telling him that, if she were to spin around, it would flare out like a blooming flower. He shook his head sharply, clearing it of stupid thoughts like that. Kitty looked at him in surprise, but he said nothing, and she swiftly looked away again.

When they reached the hall that had been cleared for the dance, Storm was waiting by the entrance.

"I'll be watching," she said ominously, and John curled his lip before reaching out and grabbing Kitty around the waist. He yanked her closer to him, ignoring her cry of affront.

"Look, see? This is us. Together. At the dance." Storm inclined her head and let them pass, sharing a smile with Rogue.

"This is either going to go very well or very, very badly," the younger woman confided. Storm nodded.

"Either way, it'll be entertaining."

"That's one way to put it."

Upon entering, John found himself surrounded by people he vaguely recognized: everyone looked different dressed up. Streamers hung from the ceiling, and a giant disco ball had been maneuvered into the air. A young man with bright red hair and an infectious grin was sitting on the disco ball, hovering thirty feet above the ground. Kitty gaped at him, and for once, she and the pyro were in complete agreement:

"This is fucking insane," John breathed.

"Hello, residents of Xavier's Institute! I'm Robbie Michaels," the redhead cried. He had a strong Cockney accent. "I'm the new dance instructor here, and I thought I'd just get us off to a head start by showing off my powers a bit! This is just a demonstration, and I hope it'll show you all your true potential in the wonderful world of dance!" He let out a joyous laugh.

"This guy," John said to Kitty, not looking at her, "is gonna get eaten alive some day." Before she could respond, the madman on the disco ball flung out a hand. Music started; fast-paced, spicy-sounding music that flooded the room. Kitty yelped as something seemed to take hold of her, moving her body against her own will. John looked just as disconcerted, but suddenly he'd spun her out and pulled her back in close to his body in a tight, hot salsa move.

"You're dancing to your emotions," Robbie shouted into the chaos that had, moments before, been a dance floor. Students were salsa-ing, tangoing, square dancing and jazzing it up all across the room. "Whatever you're feeling right now is coming out in the form of beautiful movement!"

"He's a lunatic," Kitty yelled to John over the sound of the music. She sounded terrified. "Let go of me!" He twirled her again, and she landed with her back pressed tight against his chest.

"I can't!" One smooth move later and they were stepping away from each other, hands still clasped, and then stepping up again until they were inches away. John's mouth was open slightly, his eyes wide with confusion, anger and dismay. Kitty looked just as shocked as they twisted around each other in a complicated move that brought to mind the most intricate breed of swing.

John managed to tear his gaze away from the girl in his arms long enough to spot Rogue do-si-doing with a boy he didn't know. She caught his gaze and grinned widely at him. Then, he lost her in the crowd. John was once again riveted on Kitty, with one single thought in his head: this is bad. Or maybe two thoughts: that, and oh fuck, that top doesn't hide a single goddamn thing.

Before he knew it, they'd shifted into some kind of fast tango, so close that he could feel her exhale against his chest. Their eyes were locked together, and John thought he could see fire reflected in her wide brown eyes.

With a dramatic flourish, the music crescendo-ed into an explosion of drums and horns, and John dipped Kitty so low that the tips of her hair brushed against the floor. All around them, sounds echoed as students either collapsed into laughter, ran away in embarrassment, or fell into the most basic of human embraces. Kitty stared up at the fire-manipulator, whose face was inches away from her own.

"If I kiss you in the near future, will you hit me again?"

"If I let go of you long enough to hit you, I'd fall," she replied truthfully.

"Good point."

"Thank you."

"Truce?"

"For now."

"Okay… Pretty Kitty." And then he did kiss her, and she did not hit him.


End file.
